


the last heir

by jswoon2



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Knotting, M/M, Mates, More tags to be added, Off-screen torture, Omega Verse, Psychological Trauma, Rape, Self-Lubrication
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-04-10 17:24:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4400783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jswoon2/pseuds/jswoon2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Robb leaves, Theon does not and an enemy of Winterfell soon comes.</p><p> </p><p>Or, an AU where Jon never left to take the black and Robb leaves Jon legitimate heir to Winterfell; Theon never becomes a turncloak but Ramsay Snow still is an asshole.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place right around Clash of Kings time. Since the story is Theon/Jon centric, is to be assumed that Bran and Co. have already escaped Winterfell post Ramsay's attack (instead of Theon's).
> 
> I have no beta so all of this is edited by myself. Comments are always appreciated.
> 
> WARNINGS: This chapter serves as an introduction and contains A/B/O elements. The characters can be assumed to be of age unlike canon.

**I**

Spooned against Theon, Jon is sated and warm, tight around his Alpha’s knot. It’s almost been a minute but Theon is still coming. Each little spurt of come makes Jon mewl like a kitten. The Omega rocks his hips back against Theon’s. The knot is fully expanded, yet it tries to give the Omega more of what he wants. Theon has already come thrice, two of those times secured tight against Jon, once locked tight around his lips and now this. Only on slow nights are they able to do this.

They don’t hesitate to take advantage of it.

“Careful, love,” Theon warns. Being all knotted up in Jon makes him more affectionate than usual.

“So full,” Jon moans, content. He tries to work himself on Theon’s knot but the older man is as deep as he can go. Any more and Jon would hurt himself.

“I know,” he pets Jon on the chest and nuzzles the Omega on the back of the neck. “I know. You did so well today. Look so good on my knot.” The image of Jon tied to him never ceases to impress him. Jon takes him so well and so willing. It tires Jon out so easily and that only makes Theon crave Jon more.

Only as of recent has Theon allowed himself the pleasure of knotting Jon’s mouth. It doesn’t feel nearly as good as the boy’s ass around his cock but it’s a close second. But the training for it. It was a long process. The only way they can do it - the only way that Theon will allow it in fear of harming Jon - is by having Theon sit on the edge of the bed with Jon kneeling on a pillow on the floor. Just looking at Jon’s dark grey eyes as he swallows his mate’s come and rests his cheek on the inside of Theon’s thigh makes the wolf inside the Alpha go crazy.

Jon licks his lips and reaches back between his legs, feeling where he and his mate are joined. His rim is stretched and puffy, Omega slick coating his fingers as he plays with himself there. There’s almost a part of him that doesn’t think he’s full enough even still. Even as Theon gives him all he can. As he pulls his fingers away, Theon catches his wrist. The Omega pauses, cautious, not wanting to displease the Alpha. Theon merely brings the dirty fingers to his lips and cleans them off with his tongue, rocking his knot against Jon, holding him by the hips.

“One more, one more, please. _Alpha_.” The Omega whines. Theon is finally done coming and he misses the sensation already.

“You’re like an Omega in heat, baby. Before the night is over, I’ll try to give you my knot just one more time. Just once more.” Theon shifts his hips slightly, attempting to get hard again while inside Jon, fresh slick dripping back onto his thighs.

 

* * *

 

As promised, Theon tires Jon out quickly. He knots Jon a third time without even pulling out. It makes the Omega keen. After he pulls Jon on top of him so he can eat the Omega out until his cheeks are raw from the burn of Theon’s stubble and his thighs are trembling from staying still.

Jon sleeps almost ten hours after that.

“Up now,”

Bored, Theon kicks the mattress until he sees Jon stir. The boy’s hair is a mess, even more than it is usually. From the way Jon shifts around in the bed, the sheets fall below the curve of his ass just as he pushes himself up to his knees to stretch. Dried Omega slick remains on the back of his thighs. It makes him smell so much like the both of them. Theon feels his mouth begin to water.

“Good morning, princess.” He says mockingly, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I thought you’d never wake up.”

“I had a real good fucking from someone last night. Don’t blame me for being exhausted.” Jon settles back into the sheets, dragging a pillow to him to bury his face in. More sleep doesn’t sound like too bad of an idea. He’s all satisfied and sore in all the right places.

Theon stifles a smile. He can’t humor Jon now. Not with the way he’s keeping his legs slightly spread, his hips canted upward. He knows that if he does, Jon will never be able to get out of bed. Though it is very tempting, he can't let his Omega get what he wants all the time. His mate has already wasted so much time sleeping that most of the day is almost over. Lady Catelyn had not been happy to hear that Jon was still asleep mid through the day.

“Are you going to give me my morning fuck or will you make me wait until later?” Jon asks.

“A good Omega would wait for their Alpha to be ready. Besides, it’s not really morning anymore.” He trails his fingertips light against Jon’s skin. There’s already a slight trail of Omega slick creeping down to Jon’s cock. “I’ll let you suck me off, but no knot. Robb wants to speak with you and he’ll be displeased if he has to come get you himself to see that you’re tied to me. He hates when we reek too much of sex.”

“He’ll just have to deal with it.” Jon pushes up to his knees, pawing at Theon until he gets onto the bed, his back against the headboard. “One of these days we’ll be lucky. You’ll breed me so good that I’ll be able to give you your heir.”

Roughly, Theon takes Jon by the back of the neck. They kiss messy, open and wet with tongues rubbing against each other. Jon rocks down into Theon’s lap, leaking more than he had been before. His mind is so fuzzy that he takes too long to unlace Theon’s breeches. It makes the man impatient. Instead, he pulls out his cock himself.

“Suck, sweetness. Be a good boy for your Alpha.” Theon pushes Jon away with reluctance.

Eyes gone dark, Jon slides down on the bed. Theon’s cock is thick and long just the way Jon likes. The Omega licks at the flared head, holding the base of the man’s cock loosely in his grip. His lips work gradually around the shaft. Each needy moan nearly has Theon coming. His knot is swollen and throbbing. He can smell how wet Jon is, how ready he is to take his knot and it hurts to know he can’t.

“Take it all.” The Alpha encourages, pushing Jon’s head further down his shaft. “There we go. Relax your throat.”

The scent is overwhelming. Jon smells ready for him. Leaning forward, Theon hears Jon choke slightly until he gets the right rhythm again and pauses until his mate’s heartbeat regulates again. Licking his fingers, he gets them nice and wet before pushing them between Jon’s cheeks, playing with him. The hole opens right up for him, unfurling with even the slightest pressure. Jon moans and wiggles his hips until he’s presenting himself. He wastes no time, pushing two fingers in at once. He holds his fingers apart to test the gape. From before Jon is still so stretched. So warm and velvety on the inside.

“So nice. Swallow it.” He holds Jon’s head still. The boy’s throat flutters around his cock nudging against the walls of his throat. A few seconds pass before he releases his hold, Jon pulls off to gasp for air and they repeat the process until Theon is coming straight onto Jon’s face, rubbing most of the sticky liquid onto his lips.

Appreciatively, Jon hums, eyes closed. He works his hips against Theon’s fingers, doing all the work while he chases Theon’s come with his tongue. A few times he slips the tip between his lips and nips lightly against Theon’s fingers near his mouth. Smug, Jon clenches tight around Theon, just to keep him there.

“Are you sure there’s no time for a quick knot?” Jon bares his neck, slipping a finger besides Theon’s.

It hurts to be the responsible one for once.

The news Robb brings to Jon is not what he wants to hear. Going off to war claiming to be King of the North seems more like a death sentence than anything else to Jon and he tells his brother as such. Still, Robb’s mind has been made and there’s no changing it. Their men must prepare for war or else be trampled on by the people who betrayed their lord father. Jon understands this, but he wishes that he can support it as well.

“He’s stupid to not let me come with him.” Jon complains once they’re done.

Jon had a bath drawn for him. He sits with Theon behind him sucking marks onto his neck. The Alpha likes the spot near the mating bite the most. Jon makes the loveliest sounds when touched there.

“He’s doing it to keep you safe.” Theon reminds him. “I’ll be here, too, to keep you safe. Or we can go to Pyke. Robb has given me the opportunity to visit home but I declined. I can tell him I changed my mind before it’s too late and you can come with me. I can make plans with my father from here. I don't have to go back.”

Absentmindedly, Jon plays with Theon’s fingers, comparing them to his own. As an Omega his fingers are slim whereas Theon’s as thick. He sighs, thinking of those fingers on him - in him. “This is my home, I can’t. You can if you’d like. Don’t let me stop you.”

Just the sound of them cleaning each other in the warm water fills the room. Hard against Jon’s back, he slips right inside the tight heat and they stay like that. They both come in the water from rubbing and rocking against each other softly.

Robb leaves, Theon does not and an enemy of Winterfell soon comes.


	2. Chapter 2

**II**

Despair. Despair is all Jon feels. He holds the thin sheet close to his body, curling into the warmth. It’s the best he’s felt in some time now. It’s been three months since Robb left for way but it feels like it’s been years. He’s almost never been this tired before. Winter did not just come. It arrived as a huge storm.

“Clean him.”

Carefully, hands pry away the covers keeping him warm - keeping him safe. He whines high at the loss. At this point, he isn’t even embarrassed at the sound. He just wants to be left be. Now he’s colder than ever.

His brother is at war, his sisters lost to the queen. Even his younger brothers are not much safer than Jon is. Their saving grace is that neither one of them have presented yet. If they’re Betas, they could prove to be useful. As Omegas or Alphas, Ramsay will likely kill them or worse. He could keep them around to use as a plaything as he does Jon. Even just the thought makes him shiver. Jon can only hope that Robb will send someone to save them.

“Come on, I have to clean you or your wounds will fester.”

Jon looks up with watery eyes. His arms and legs are throbbing and his throat feels as if someone rubbed sandpaper against it. Trying to sit up makes his head spin. Every bit of him feels terrible and it all shows on his face. All the torture has slowed his Omega healing. Ramsay keeps the rest of his prisoners locked away but he knows Jon is no condition to go anywhere.

“Please, love.” Theon sighs. He looks over his shoulder to see if any Bolton men are standing there. Luckily, they left with the bastard. The _other_ bastard. At the very least the dogs aren’t there. Jon hates them the most. “Let me clean you.” Jon’s eyes droop and he vaguely hears his mate sigh. “Gods, Jon, you’re losing too much blood. Let me help you.”

Strong arms cradle him. The tub he’s placed in feels too warm on his wounds that it hurts. He recoils and tries to push himself out but he has almost no strength left. His arms wobble when he tries to support himself. Hands caress his face, chapped lips press against his own. He doesn’t feel into it though. He only sinks deeper into the tub, letting the water rise up to his chin until Theon pulls him back up again.

“If that bastard didn’t kill Maester Luwin you’d be much better off. I haven’t a clue what I’m doing.” Theon looks at the cuts littering Jon’s arm with disdain. If he had men working for him as well, he would’ve killed Ramsay by now. Once the bastard heard of Jon’s Omega identity, he knew his mate was going to be in trouble. The Stark heir had been rumored to be an Alpha but those people spoke and _knew_ of Robb, not Jon. “Jon, can you even hear me now? Are you listening to me?”

Weakly, he blinks, raising a hand to cup Theon’s cheek. He lacks the strength to do it for too long so as his hand begins to fall, Theon holds it for him, kissing his palm slowly. “I hear you,” Jon says. Around him the tub water is red. Most of the shallower cuts have stopped bleeding on their own but he’s lost so much blood even still. His body mends itself slower each time Ramsay cuts into his skin. He fought the best he could but he learned very fast it was better not to fight too much. He won’t give Ramsay the satisfaction anymore.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Gods, we should’ve went to Pyke. We would’ve been safe there. I could’ve claimed my throne and you would’ve been safe.” Softly, Theon takes a soapy sponge to Jon’s skin. He grimaces whenever Jon grimaces. They both really wish Maester Luwin was still alive but he was sworn to the House Stark and would give no counsel to a Bolton so Ramsay Snow had him killed. Jon is no true Stark either. He’s just a bastard.

“I’ll be okay.” Jon lies. Theon is aware of this. His mate can hear how his heartbeat wavers. He watches Ramsay take him nearly every day. The hardest part is watching Jon hurt. Seeing him bleed frightens Theon the most. “You’ll think of something. We’ll get out of here and I’ll give you your heir. My promise to my mate.”

Theon cleans Jon and dresses all of his wounds in silence. He brushes his fingers gently over each one. He makes displeased faces at the worst of them. Done with his task, he puts Jon to bed. The sheets haven’t been changed, the scent of blood and come strong. Ramsay cares not if Jon is wet and ready for him or not. The bastard wants an heir and so far Jon has not been able to produce.

Quickly, he kisses Jon on the forehead and leaves. Theon wishes he could scent mark his mate but that’s risky. Ramsay won’t like Theon replacing his scent on Jon. They’ll both be punished. Outside the door two men wait to take him back to his quarters. Not his old room, but a smaller one. A room fit for a serving boy. Many times before Jon and Theon have run off to that room to steal sweet moments together. Now it brings bad thoughts and sad memories.

“Are we going?” he asks when he sees another one of Ramsay’s men come up to him. Not even a man. A boy, Big Walder. The poor name fits the poor character the boy is.

“Ramsay wishes to know if you’ve cleaned the bitch yet. He wants to lend the Omega to some of his men.” The Frey boy is so small that all three men have to look down to see him speak.

The news makes Theon bristle. “Jon is no shape to be passed around a table of me like a doll. If he would allow a maester to see him, he would heal much quicker.” A sharp blade to his back makes him calm only slightly. “If Lord Bolton would be so kind, sending a maester to Jon it would be most helpful.”

“You’re lucky the both of you are still alive.” The man with the knife says. Theon remembers his name being Grunt. A stupid name for a stupid man. “An Omega is nothing but a hole to fuck. Snow should be so lucky for what he is.”

“And if another man gets Jon pregnant?” The thought of it makes Theon’s blood boil but he says it. Anything to get the men to stop.

“Maesters have their ways. How else do you think women whore around without being with child all the time.” Grunt smacks Theon on the back of the head so hard that he stumbles and nearly falls. He’s been lucky enough to be mostly unscathed. Mostly bruises and cuts only. One meager meal a day. Theon knows worse may have come his way if Ramsay didn’t have something - someone - else to occupy his time.

Big Walder shifts his weight from foot to foot. “Lord Bolton says he’ll have Snow now. The royal cockwarmer is wanted.”

“Well,” another smack from Grunt, “get the bitch before Ramsay slaughters all his guests in the hall. I don’t want to hear his complaining about not having enough men because he can’t keep his temper.” Grunt has touched Jon before too. Taken Theon’s mate against the table where the Starks once ate together as a family. He’d done it with only Ramsay’s cock before him as prep.

Theon follows orders quietly, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. He wishes he could have taken the beatings that Jon has received but by the looks Ramsay gives him, he knows the treatment would not be even relatively the same. He’s an Alpha, a potential threat to Ramsay’s authority. House Greyjoy may not be a major house but he’s no bastard. He holds higher potential to be the King of Winterfell. The north would follow the heir to a Greyjoy sooner than the heir of the Bolton bastard who took their home.

“You can rest later, sweetness.” Theon tells Jon, pulling his mate from his sleep. Grunt and the other Bastard Boy follows, Big Walder in front. They have orders not to let Theon wander by himself.

The hall is no longer the same. It looks the same but it feels very different. As Theon approaches Ramsay in Lord Stark’s chair, Jon curls tighter into his mate’s hold. The comfort only lasts so long before he must release him. He sets Jon onto the floor at Ramsay’s feet, looking away when the smack of Ramsay’s cock hitting Jon’s face echos off the walls.

“Have a seat, Theon.” Ramsay smiles. The bastard kicks the chair nearest to him. Theon remembers Robb sitting there once and how jealous it made him feel. Then to Jon, “Suck my cock like you mean it and no teeth. Even a scrape and I’ll knock them out of your mouth.”

Theon’s hesitation leads Grunt to force him into the chair suddenly. The grip is much too tight, blunt nails digging into his skin through his shirt. Jon’s suckling sounds makes the man next to him lick his lips. He tries not to let the disgust show too much on his face.

“From what I understand, you and Jon Snow think you can run away. Perhaps I should collar my latest pet.” Ramsay thrusts his hips up and holds Jon’s head firm. The choking sounds hurt to hear. “If I didn’t think my little Omega would do something stupid with you dead, I would’ve killed you by now. I haven’t had the time to break him in just yet. He fights less, see? But he has too much spirit.”

Jon balls his hands into fists in his lap, blinking away tears. He’s having trouble breathing, not that Ramsay removes his hand from the back of his head. Still he’s gotten better. He doesn't pass out when Ramsay or the other men do this anymore.

“He’s a much better hole to fuck when he’s unconscious. There’s much less of a fight then.” The bastard tugs at Jon’s hair whereas Theon would’ve played with the dark locks.

When Jon lets out a deep breath, so does Theon. His eyes are more on Jon than they are on Ramsay. It frustrates the bastard even more.

“On the table.”

Theon flinches, almost mistaking the command for him. In his place, Jon rises shakily to his feet, lifting himself onto the table. He cringes at how rough the wood is on his skin. The clothes fit him poorly, the pants ripped in the back while the shirt no longer laces together.

“Tell me,” Ramsay says as he holds Jon tight at the hips, his fingers gone white, “how often were you dropped as a babe to not be smart enough to run home to Pyke like the Young Wolf told you to?” He thrusts roughly, forcing Jon onto the table when he tries to lift his hips. The jabbing thrusts do nothing but hurt. A one-sided pleasure.

“Since Jon would not leave, neither would I.” He answers truthfully. Jon refuses to look at him, keeping his head buried in the crook of his arm. “I knew then I made the wrong choice.” The statement is a stab right at their mating bond. It makes Jon recoil. Ramsay is rough with him but he’s gotten used to it. It doesn’t shock him, the way Ramsay manhandles him in front of his men. Not anymore. Theon knows much about Jon to get him to tick.

“So it’s the bastard’s fault, is it?” Grunt inquires. He already has his cock out, stroking it. He’s shorter but much thicker than Theon is. Jon cries out the loudest whenever Grunt fucks him. Theon had been surprised to see Ramsay keep so many Alphas under his command.

Ramsay spends inside Jon and passes him off to Grunt, settling back into his chair while the man mounts Jon with one foot propped up against his table, the other firmly planted onto the ground. Jon tries to push Grunt’s weight off of him, failing when the man grabs him by the wrist and pins it tight against the table.

“He resists so much. It makes him feel unbearingly tight. I like my Omegas soft on the inside.” Ramsay lets his men hoot and holler the more Jon cries out.

“Prob’ly because Theon doesn’t have much of a cock anyway.” Another one of Ramsay’s bastard jokes, smacking Jon loudly on the ass. A red hand mark stays behind. He jerks Jon by the chin, forcing a half hard cock between his lips.

The great wooden table rocks. Grunt drops his fangs and bites Jon on the shoulder. It’s nothing like a mating bite or a bonding bite. It’s meant to hurt. By the way that Jon whimpers around the man’s cock tells Theon that it did just that.

“All I want is a male heir.” Ramsay urges his men to use Jon harder. Go faster. “Once I have my heir, you and Snow are useless to me. I have Winterfell and that’s all that matters. These people will never speak ill of the name Ramsay Bolton if they wish to live. That is, if they have any sense.”

From somewhere a crow croaks out _Snow_.

“Of course.” Theon chokes out. “Of course, my lord.”

 

* * *

  


Jon cries on Ramsay’s knot.

The bastard had caught Theon trying to tie Jon. He was so close, his knot fully blown and just as he was about to push past the tight rim, Ramsay came barging into Jon’s room for his nightly fuck. They should have seen it coming but it had been so long since they were able to just be together for the night. It was worth the beating he received. He gave Ramsay no satisfaction torturing him until the man took a blade to his skin and tore it off. Theon screamed for all he was worth, writhing against the bindings. After he had to watch Ramsay knot Jon, harsh and rushed. Theon was only thankful that Jon was wet from before, slick still fresh from playing around together.

“So wet like a woman.” Ramsay complains. “It’s much better dry, so much tighter that way. Just like a virgin. Though, no matter what he still cries like one.”

Theon groans. His arms are raised high above his head and his legs are spread wide. Under Ramsay’s orders, he was to be kept naked before he was tortured.

“I should castrate you, Greyjoy. He may have been your Omega before, but he’s mine now. I’ll fuck him real good, give him what you haven’t been able to.” Ramsay moves his knot around too much causing Jon to gasp, grappling around for something to hold onto.

Head lolling around Jon groans in pain. “Please, too much. Please.”

Clenching his fists, Theon resists cursing. If he says the wrong thing Ramsay may torture him again or worse, he may hurt Jon again somehow. Jon won’t be able to produce an heir while he’s so unwilling. So long as his mate is Theon, no seed will take. Theon knows this as much as Jon knows this. So far Ramsay doesn’t. It’s surprising that a maester hasn’t warned him yet.

Not even Ramsay Snow’s men want to see that man have an heir. Another monster like the man who leads them.

“He’s pretty when he begs.” Ramsay taunts when he sees Theon’s expression change.

“He can’t take anymore. Something will tear.”

For a second, it seems like Ramsay considers heeding Theon’s advice. “Really, Omegas are much too sensitive. All they do is whine. And their heats. So tedious. It’s quite annoying. I’m not sure why you decided to take a mate, Theon. Hiring whores is much more convenient.”

Theon remains silent. He remembers Kyra, how often he visited her bed. An itch across his chest starts as the tissue begins mending itself. His canines almost flash when the wolf inside realizes that Jon has not healed any. If they had the time -  if they had thought of it sooner - he could’ve given Jon some of his energy just long enough to give his mate some comfort.

They should’ve gone to Pyke when they had the chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had meant to post this about a month ago, but was sidetracked. Not beta'd (only proofread) so if there are mistakes, please tell me.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick interlude at the Wall.

**III**

The Wall is cold to Sam Tarley. Any time he’s knocked to the ground, it’s hard work getting back up. His layers of clothes hinder him from any fluid motions. He doesn’t keep up as well as the other boys. Belatedly he thinks of his father. The man never said to his son that being a brother on the Wall _would_ be easy. Though, the man never said many things of use to his son anyway.

“Perhaps you should try that again but slower?”

Looking up, Sam tries not to scowl. It would be in his best interest to keep the only friend he has among those on the Wall. He knows, for one, that Alliser Thorne is very far from being his friend. Had they not taken the same vows, Sam would have almost taken the man for an enemy instead of a mentor. It’s like he never left his father.

“It would seem they have run short of poachers and thieves down south. Now they send up pigs to man the Wall.” Alliser sneers with a roll of the eyes. The man has spent less than a fortnight with the group of novices and he already looks like he’s bored of the chore.

Beside Sam, Pypar winces. He looks worried but it’s really Sam who should be concerned - _is_ concerned. Even with years of training, Sam can’t imagine looking like any of the other men on the Wall. He knows secretly that at dinner they all whisper about them. They spread rumors and make bets of how Sam will be driven off. It isn’t like they try to hide it either. He’s not the kind of person expected to last on the Wall.

Alliser’s stare sent a shiver down Sam’s spine.

“It could be worse. He looks at all of us like that.” Grenn inputs, rolling his wrist. He had no choice but to admit to the rest of the group in front of Ser Alliser his accident came from a bastard Omega from Winterfell. Sam and Pyp would believe their friend if not for the fact that Omegas aren’t supposed to be that strong.

“Easy for you to say, you can hold a sword properly.” Sam complains.

Pyp actually laughs. Some friend. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. You can do that just fine. You just aren’t too swift on your feet yet.”

“ _Yet_. If I don’t get better soon, there’ll be one less novice Ser Alliser has to train. Nobody will even notice.” Sam protests as he sticks his sword into the crisp snow. It stays where he put it for a few seconds before it begins tilting to the side. “I can’t even do this!”

“Sam,” Grenn begins, placing his hand on his friend’s shoulder, “don’t be mad. If you went missing, everyone would notice. You’re too big not to, my friend.”

“Are you supposed to be comforting me right now?”

Grenn raises a brow. “Is it not working?”

Puffing up his chest, Sam extracts his sword from the snow and angrily beings to shuffle away for the armory. He can hear the sound of Alliser finding someone else to scold and the frantic whispers of his friends rushing up behind him. He tries his best to ignore them both by humming softly to himself. It used to work when his mother would do it at home.

“Sam! Sam, you know we didn’t really mean it.” Grenn runs to his friend’s side, jerking him back with a single hand. It almost angers Sam to know that he wouldn’t be able to stop his friends as easily as that. Well, Grenn is more of Pyp’s friend than Sam’s but he enjoys knowing that if they had to spar the boy wouldn’t go too hard on him. That’s friendship enough.

“No, you’re right. I’m wasting my time. I’m not going to be as good as you or Pyp or anyone else here. I don’t have a place. How am I to ever pass out of training?” Sam asks his friends, watching as their faces turn a bit blank.

Pyp is the first to speak. “Everyone eventually finds their place on the Wall.”

“And where do you think I’ll find mine?” Sam asks, hopeful.

“If you have any hopes of surviving, just don’t volunteer to be a Ranger. Those guys don’t take things lightly.” Grenn shrugs his shoulders.

 

* * *

 

A halfman disturbs their dinner. He waddles between the aisles of tables with Benjen Stark at his side. Pyp gapes with Grenn while Sam pretends he doesn’t see what he actually sees. Benjen Stark is one of the best Rangers the Night Watch has ever seen or at least kept recorded before. Sam almost wishes he can be Benjen.

“It’s a shame I’ll only be here for one more day. I did enjoy being this tall up.” The halfman says, watching all the brothers in black.

“I’m afraid height doesn’t work that way,” Benjen responds.

“But it should. For once I’d be so high up that not even Cersei would attempt to reach me.”

A sharp elbow to the side brings Sam back to attention. Pyp had been talking to him but he wasn’t listening. Not at all. Not when it appeared a more interesting conversation was occurring. One that didn’t revolve around nasty bruising and sword callouses.

“You know who that is?” Grenn asks, placing a half eaten apple to his lips.

Sam shakes his head no. Pyp opens his mouth to answer, however, promptly closes it with a short clang of his teeth. As Sam turns around again to go back to watching his show, he sees nothing but black cloth and a sword tucked into a leather belt staring back at him.

“Tyrion. Tyrion Lannister is who I am. Should I ask you who you three are or does it not matter?”

Benjen over the Lannister’s shoulder looks undisturbed. He makes direct eye contact with Sam before looking away once more. The man knew very well who had been listening on in their conversation.

“Try not to disturb the boys too much.” Benjen warns. Even though there’s a fire going in the room, he’s still wearing the same clothes he had been wearing outside. Men gossiped on the Wall how dedicated a man Benjen Stark is to the cause of the Night Watch but Sam hadn’t really believed it. The Starks truly belong in the north.

“What?” Tyrion asks the group. “Cat got your tongue? Or should I say, pig got your tongue? Whichever is politically correct of course.” Sam becomes very glad that Grenn decides to stay quiet. “No? Nothing else to say. I must commend you, though. I couldn’t imagine being up here for the rest of my life. I only have one weapon and I doubt it would be of much use on the Wall.”

Arms crossed over his chest, Benjen clears his throat. The sword seems to glint with no extra light in the room. “And what kind of weapon is this?”

“My mind. My mind is a weapon. My brother has a sword, King Robert has his warhammer and I have my mind. That’s why I read so much.” Tyrion says, holding up the book in his hand nobody had noticed until now, to knock the corner against his temple playfully. “We all have our strengths no matter how we are born. Take my sister for instance. She uses her cunt quite skillfully.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon quotes/references & changed canon from the series -  
> *"It would seem they have run short of poachers and thieves ..." (A Game of Thrones)  
> *Not canon: Grenn injuring his wrist from going to Winterfell with Benjen. The Omega was Jon.  
> *"My mind is a weapon." (Originally said to Jon by Tyrion in GoT)


	4. Chapter 4

**IV**

News hits Winterfell that the King of the North reigns triumphant in battle. From inside Winterfell, Jon almost thinks he can hear Ghost howling. He had sent Ghost off with Bran and Rickon with the intent on Ghost leading the pack to safety, but Ghost, like Jon, never felt comfortable with the idea. Hodor and the wildling woman went with them, but he has no clue if they’re still alive. How far away they’ve gotten. His brothers are lost, one sister trapped at King’s Landing, and the other most likely dead. Very briefly he thinks of Catelyn. A pang of sympathy hits his chest. They’ve both lost Robb to a new cause. They may have both lost a brother - a son - but they gained a king. Another one, that is.

The only one he has left now is Theon.

Theon who barely touches him now. He can feel their bond wavering. The longer they stay apart, the more their bond weakens. At night he knows Theon can hear him calling out for him, but he never comes. The risk is too great. Ramsay is now Ramsay Bolton. If even possible, being legitimized by his father made him more of monster than from before. 

Jon wonders if Roose knows his son is a monster. Perhaps that’s why he favored Domeric so much. Jon wonders what Pyke may have been like if he and Theon went when they had the chance. He pictures the sea and the taste of salt in the air. It burns.

Though, anything must be better than how Winterfell is now.

 

* * *

 

Jon doesn’t wake up for two days.

Livid, Ramsay summons Theon to the Omega’s quarters red in the face.

“It appears that Snow is having withdrawals from being away from his mate for so long. The separation exhausted the Omega causing him to go into a coma-like state to preserve energy.” The maester explains. He looks at Ramsay like he’s the one to blame but quickly averts his gaze to the floor instead.

Ramsay grits his teeth and pokes a dirty nail against Theon’s chest. “Then why is  _ he _ fine? Shouldn’t he look like shit too?”

The maester gives Theon a long look up and down, taking extra time to stalk around Theon just to check. “Well, usually between a bonded pair, the Alpha feels more of a tug. They have more resistance to the pain separation causes. Alphas are capable of taking several mates to ensure offspring. Omegas can only take one.” Then to Theon, “Have you been feeling any kind of pull toward your Omega lately?”

Theon immediately blanches. Ramsay allows one visit to Jon’s quarters every other night just so the Omega will stop sniveling in his sleep. When it was time for Grunt to come and take Theon to Jon, he refused. He thought it might be best they stay apart. As much as he wanted to go to Jon it just seems the more often he’s around Jon, the more he seems to be hurt. The less they smell like each other - like mates - the more arguments they get into. The more arguments they get into, the more energy Jon wastes on a battle he can’t win. In his mind Theon had thought it was a good idea. 

Even sleeping Jon looks like he’s in pain.

“Fix this, or you won’t have a mate to worry about at all.” Ramsay threatens, fangs and claws showing. He didn’t enjoy Jon being around Theon so much either but he hadn’t imaged getting a pair of mates to break their bond would cause this kind of damage. His father never cared much for taking on a mate if his birth remains evidence of that. Wives he had taken, but mates, never. Roose has never given his bite away.

With a firm shove, Ramsay pushes past Theon to get out of the room. The air smells like a lingering rage once he leaves. The maester and Grunt look at Theon expectantly. Hesitating, Theon goes forward until he’s nearly touching the bed. He sits on the edge. As he places a hand on Jon’s cheek, he can’t help but think the slight color in the Omega’s cheeks is nothing but a trick of the light.

“Are you waiting for him to wake up or die?” Grunt asks, picking at the dirt underneath his nail with a knife. The Alpha peers at Jon like he’s tempted to touch him. Make the situation worse, perhaps.

Getting onto the bed feels strange. It feels like Theon is doing so uninvited. Even as he does so, Jon unconsciously curls into the new bit of warmth on the bed. From outside, they can all hear what sounds like a direwolf howling. That Theon dismisses immediately. Jon sent Ghost off with his brothers. He’s just hearing things now. Ramsay has gotten to him at last it seems.

“Don’t see why we can’t let the bitch die.” 

Somber, the maester just shakes his head. “In order to produce an heir, an Omega is needed. Betas can rarely conceive children to full term successfully. Omegas are made for childbirth.”

“Sounds like one fucking sad existence.”

Theon never thought he’d ever agree with such an imbecile before. He does, though. What a sad time to be an Omega.

 

* * *

 

The hand in Theon’s hair suddenly tugs. Jerking awake, Theon groans and allows himself to be pulled backward. Better to save his hair that way. He almost thinks it’s Ramsay back to get him, or maybe one of the bastard’s dogs, but instead it’s just Jon with his claws bared and fangs dropped. His mate looks more furious looking than the time Arya had run off with his sword. Dark bags hang underneath his eyes, the lines of his forehead show worry. The sudden action has Jon breathing heavy as if he took a long run through the forest.

“You’re such a pain in my ass.” Jon bites out, releasing Theon now that he has the Alpha’s attention. “After all that time you spent moping in your room, I hope that you came up with a plan to get out of here.”

The Alpha blanches for a moment. “Kyra. Kyra can get us out of here. We’ll have to wait a few days though. Best, we wait until it’s dark.” Theon says, sensing nobody waiting outside Jon’s door. 

Jon kicks on the bed until the sheets are off his body. He had been so cold in his sleep that not even the three blankets had been enough to bring enough warmth back to his body to stop him from shivering. Now that the fever has broken, he feels on fire being so close to Theon under the wool. If anything, the thought of trying to escape with a third person makes him even more antsy.

Tired from lashing out so suddenly, Jon sinks back into the pillows. He’s sweating but he still draws Theon to him. It’s been awhile since he’s been last touched kindly and enjoyed it. Ramsay pets his hair but it’s never followed by compassionate words.

“Ramsay isn’t stupid enough to let more of his prisoners run free. Chasing after two children wasn’t worth it but he’ll come after me if he feels he has to in order to get an heir. The name Stark means nothing in Winterfell anymore.” Jon bitterly admits. The only live Stark that the world knows of any more is Robb Stark who’s too far into the westerlands to turn back around.

“If he wants an heir so badly, he can go get some woman pregnant. He doesn’t need you.” Theon insists. He had thought in catching the serving wench in the midst of her planning to escape Winterfell and convincing her to take them with her would make Jon happy.

“You say that as if Ramsay is the type to give people an option.” Jon scoffs, turning onto his side until he settles comfortably. The scratch marks on Jon’s back have long healed but the scars still remain. 

Theon belatedly thinks of how Jon’s rest allowed the Omega to heal.

“Just give me a sword and I’ll cut as many men down as possible before I die.”

“Don’t be stupid, Jon. Robb told you not to do anything rash while he’s gone, remember? If you’re going to do something you aren’t supposed to, at least don’t be daft enough to try it in front of me. Ramsay will kill both of us if he has to. He’s an Alpha.”

Jon looks at his Alpha, speechless. He has to wonder how they got like this. He knows exactly when it began but he can’t - doesn’t want to - pinpoint the reason why. He’s a victim but here Theon is looking at Jon like he’s the dirty one. The mating bite tingles at the thought. Jon had been fifteen, fresh on his nameday, when Theon began courting him. If he was unable to read Theon, Robb surely could. They appeared to be the perfect match.

He hadn’t considered before that maybe it had just been a biological match.

“I’m fine looking after myself.” Jon insists. He doesn’t want to show Theon his claws again but right now he’s not in a mood to be messed with.

“You’re an Omega, Jon. You won’t be able to do anything to Ramsay so long as he has his boys and his bloody dogs.” Theon sneers, sitting up. He remembers training with Jon and Robb, Rodrik Cassel barking orders at three rowdy boys. Everyone had been so sure that Jon would be an Alpha. All bulky build, broad shoulders, and well muscled. Instead, he presented as an Omega and never again was he seen as the same strong boy again.

It was the first time that Theon ever really used it against Jon in an argument though. Not since they had been younger.

Low and intimidating, Jon growls from the back of his throat. “Is that what I am to you, Theon? A hopeless Omega with no other purpose but to spread their legs for some bullheaded Alpha’s knot? Has listening to Ramsay gotten to you? Well, fuck you Greyjoy. Don’t act like I wanted to be an Omega. Just how perfect Ned Stark’s bastard, a dainty, useless Omega. Stop acting like you're the only one with problems.”

“Jon, you know I … please. I didn’t - I just meant, they - Ramsay’s men - can overpower you. I promise, we’ll get out of here and I’ll bring you to Robb.” Theon says to placate his mate. Jon makes a short flash of fangs at Theon when the Alpha tries to touch him, but doesn’t pull away when Theon drags Jon back into the circle of his arms. “I’ll protect you.”

“We’ll protect each other.”

Settling in on his mate’s heart beat, Theon just nods. Their standstill is awkward but they need each other right now. Neither will admit how they feel better with the other in the room. Theon never thought that this would be an argument that they would have. This woman is their ticket out and it would be stupid not to take it.

It must be, if only Jon would agree.

Even if they manage to get away, Theon has a strange feeling that Jon will bring him back.

_ There must always be a Stark in Winterfell _ .

Repressing a sigh, Theon tucks his chin into the back of his mate’s neck, inhaling his comforting scent. Jon squirms for a moment and Theon briefly thinks Jon means to push him away again. Instead he reaches back around him, pulling Theon’s arm tighter around his body until they’re completely spooned together. As Jon drags his fingers lightly along his Alpha’s arm, the young man can feel the rough scabs bumping along.

Theon wants to ask what happened. He wants to know just what Ramsay did to his mate while he was away, but he continues to hold his tongue.

“I want you to make me feel better,” Jon says low under his breath so quiet that Theon almost thinks he mishears his mate.

“What?” he asks dumbly, propping himself up on an elbow. Jon is looking straight at the wall, bottom lip worried between his teeth. Theon takes his hand and smooths Jon’s lips until he lets go and looks at him. “What do you want me to do?”

Jon closes his eyes and inhales deep. He wants to bury himself in his mate’s scent. He wants the smell of Ramsay and his boys off of him. “I want you to pretend that it’s just us. For a little bit.”

Theon frowns, tracing the line of Jon’s jaw with his fingertips. His instincts scream to say yes but Theon can’t miss the faint scent of Jon’s pain that lingers in the room. Even if he tries to ignore it, it’s hard to miss the bites along Jon’s chest and collarbone that he knows aren’t from him. The possessive Alpha screams to reclaim what’s his but this his mate, his best friend’s brother.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“If I get hurt, it won’t be your fault. I’m asking for it, Theon.” Jon rolls onto his back, pressing his palm against Theon’s flaccid cock through his trousers. “Just for a while. I want to feel like nothing’s changed. Like just yesterday we saw Robb in the courtyard with Bran and Rickon. Like the direwolves were running around rampant driving father crazy.”

“And what if he comes back? I - he’ll punish you.” Theon moves his hips back but Jon chases him. 

“Then I’m punished. Ramsay  _ Snow _ does not own me.” Swiftly Jon rises, though not without a grimace, until he pushes Theon into the mattress while on top of him. He drapes himself across his Alpha’s chest, peppering kisses along the patches of bare skin. “We’ll find our way out of here together and we’ll come back. That sick bastard isn’t going to win. I’ll have him dead for everything he’s done.”

Theon’s hands betray him. He eagerly grips his Omega by the hips without meaning to. 

“He can’t win. He won’t.” Jon asserts. Slowly he moves, swiveling his hips to get Theon hard. Places his lips on top of the mating bite on Theon’s neck and gives a long, hard suck until the rest of Theon’s resolve crumbles.

Quick, he lifts Jon off his lap, pulling his pants down until his cock springs free. In the air he can smell Jon is beginning to get wet. He roughly shoves his hand down the back of Jon’s tattered pants, fingers searching for the sensitive furl of skin. The tip of his finger slides in with little resistance. Beautifully, Jon spreads his legs as far as he can, back arched until his chest is pressed into the wool. Theon reluctantly takes his hand away but only to tear off Jon’s pants so a rip sounds in the room.

Pressing close, Theon kisses the dimples in his mate’s back. Jon is bonier than usual, thinned from the stress and malnourished from the way Ramsay keeps him. But he pushes the thought away. Jon wants things to feel like they were before and allowing thoughts of Ramsay to creep in his mind as he pleasures his mate is the last thing he wants.

“Are you going to get wet for me?” Theon asks. He leaves puffs of warmth breath against Jon’s back, up his spine as he spreads his scent over the boy’s body. Jon moans. “You always do get so wet for me. So wet for your Alpha. All for me. How many fingers will I get to before you beg, love? I bet three.”

One finger slides perfectly into Jon’s body. Pulsing around the digit, the Omega’s hole clenches, trying to draw more in. Deeper.

“Fuck.” Jon hides his face into the blanket gathered tight in his hands. “Just fuck me. I want to feel it.”

Theon pauses.

Unrelenting, Jon pushes back against Theon’s hand. “Make it hurt. Make me remember I’m  _ yours _ .” The heat of Theon’s body against Jon’s back is gone. Then it’s back. Theon slides slow into his Omega, teeth hovering over the mating bite left on Jon’s neck but not biting down. The action makes Jon groan at the hurt the stretch gives him. “So good. Such a good Alpha for me. My Alpha.”

Theon’s fangs drop, his claws digging into the sensitive skin of his mate. “ _ Yours _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *"There must always be a Stark in Winterfell" - taken from the show. It may also be a quote from the books but it's been so long I don't remember that specific line.  
> **I forgot that in canon Grunt loses his tongue (at some point). At the moment his tongue is still fine.
> 
>  
> 
> Not beta'd, only proofread. Please let me know if there are any glaring mistakes. I tried to get everything. This was written quite a while ago and I only just recently went back to read through it. The next chapter will have a bit of Sansa, Arya and co., and more of Theon and Jon's situation. More tags will be added next time.


	5. Chapter 5

**V**

Sansa misses her sister. 

Somehow, in some strange way, Sansa actually misses Arya pulling her pigtails. She may have been annoying but at least Sansa knew where she was. Instead, her sister is off dead somewhere while she has to remain under the constant watch of the queen and the prince’s hound. Not once has Sansa been able to look the Hound directly in the eye. Not while he’s looking at her. At one point she thought nobody could be scarier than Sandor Clegane but that was until she was introduced to her brother. Alphas run deep in the Clegane line, so much so that Joffrey told her that if a babe was predicted to be anything but, the family head would put the child out of its misery.

She’d like to think the Cleganes aren’t like that but after meeting Sandor and Gregor, she isn’t sure.

“My lady looks parched.”

Straightening her back and smiling, though a bit sadly, Sansa cleared her throat. “No, not at all. I’m quite good. Thank you.” The Hound snorts. She tries to smile more genuinely.

“Fine.” Joffrey purses his lips, leaning back into his chair with both hands balled threateningly into fists on the table. “I’ll drink and talk while you listen.” Holding his cup out, he waits for one of the serving girls to fill it fresh with wine. “Your traitor brother is doing quite well for himself. They’re calling him the Young Wolf. Some say he transforms into his Alpha form and rips out the throats of his enemies. I’d go out there myself and kill him but mother won’t let me.”

Sansa looks at the wall, then the pretty curtains. She silently, traces the elaborate pattern with her eyes.

“It must be terrible to be related to so many traitors. First your father, then your brother and that bastard boy too. I heard he’s being bedded by the Bolton boy who took over Winterfell. A step up from the excuse of an Alpha he had. Greyjoy was it? He was your brother’s best friend mother told me.” Joffrey feigns sympathy for a moment. Upon realizes he’s lost Sansa’s focus he reaches across the table to tap her temple hard. She lets him. “Are you listening? Tch. You’re such a mess. I can’t believe mother still insists that I have to mate with you.”

“I’m listening, I promise.” Sansa says robotically. 

“Maybe you would listen better if my Hound smacked some sense in you. Dog, come here and see if you can smack some common sense into my lady here. A good wife listens to her husband when he commands.” 

Underneath the cover of her long sleeves, she balls her fists and clenches her teeth together as the first blow of an open palm lands across her cheek. Her whole face turns but she stays firmly planted in her seat. The second blow follows accompanied with Joffrey’s tinny voice. Part of her eyesight flashes white. But only for a moment. It goes by so fast she barely notices. At the third hit, she falls out of her chair, the slight taste of copper in her mouth. Her tongue throbs.

In her head, Sansa is screaming. Eddard Stark was a noble, honest man. Her brother is no traitor. Robb will come and he will save her. Jon, brave Jon, is Theon’s only one pair. The Omega to his bonded Alpha. Her sister is not dead. Arya is more alive than Sansa will ever be while in captivity here in King’s Landing. Her brothers must have gotten away. The bodies hanging on Winterfell’s walls cannot possibly be their bodies.

She wants to scream winter is coming.

She doesn’t.

 

* * *

 

Gendry Waters is a bullhead but he’s not too bad on the eyes. He stalks around camp shirtless half the time so he can wash it more times than Arya can count. She’s teased him for it and quick as a whip, he’s gone back at her as if he expected as such from her. As much as Arya wants to yell insults back at him but if she does Yoren will scold her in his gruff way for starting something with another one of the boys.

Most of their arguments are limited to going back once or twice with banter before the crow wanders to where the commotion is and assigns them chores to make due with their time.

“You don’t know anything about battles.”

Arya rolls her eyes as she squats between the two boys Hot Pie and Lommy while filling pails with water. She had to walk away from Gendry and his talk about her being short. She’s not short. She’s just the right size for her age. When she officially becomes a Beta though, she’ll be bigger. That’s what her father constantly told her when he had been alive. Before fucking Joffrey Baratheon ordered Ilyn Payne to take off her father’s head.

Alpha’s and their Alpha attitudes.

She hopes that he ends up a Beta himself. He’s Robert Baratheon’s son so of course half the kingdom hopes the boy will end up being an Alpha. It’s the only kind that’s ever sat on the Iron Throne before. She’s heard tales that the Mad King was a Beta, which is why he tried to steal her Aunt Lyanna. A Beta is almost never promised the hand of an Omega. They’re reserved for Alphas, like objects.

Arya’s brother Jon is no object. She hates even the thought of it.

With a shake of her head, she tries to clear her thoughts. Often her mind wanders and as much as she would like to tell her friends who she is, she can’t. She won’t endanger her family. For now, she’ll continue to pretend.

“I’ve seen lots of battles.” Briefly, Arya rolls her eyes. While she had been distracted, she had been hoping that the boys had moved onto another conversation. “Once I saw another man just outside a tavern in Flea Bottom. Stabbed him right in the back.” Hot Pie asserts, moving his hands as he speaks, getting water everywhere but the pail.

Lommy snorts, reaching over Arya as she leans closer to the stream to fill the bucket to playfully push his friend by the shoulder. “Two men isn’t a battle.”

“They had armor on.” Hot Pie retorts, moving to push Lommy back but shouldering Arya instead. “Sorry,”

Arya huffs between them. “So? Anyone can wear armor.”

“Gendry,” Lommy calls out, beckoning the tall boy over. “Gendry, you’re an armorer’s apprentice.” He waits for the boy to come over before fixing Hot Pie with a look. “Hot Pie, tell Gendry what makes a fight into a battle.”

“It’s, um … when they’ve got armor on.” The boy says, looking into his pail full of water.

Gendry, leaning down to retrieve the buckets and bring them back to the center of camp, pauses. “And who told you that?”

Hot Pie hesitates. “A … a knight.”

“How’d you know he was a knight?” Gendry questions. He grabs hold of two handles and lifts. Arya pointedly does not look at his arms. He’s fit, as most Alphas are. Instead she tries to think of Old Nan and her boring stories. Anything to look uninterested.

“Well - he - it’s ‘cause he’s got armor on.”

“You don’t have to be a knight to buy armor. Any idiot can buy armor.” Gendry shakes his head in slight disbelief. He knew before Yoren was pulling from the bottom of the barrel - particularly Flea Bottom - to find fresh pickings for the Wall, but he didn’t think he was literally taking  _ anyone _ . How’s a man to defend the Wall if all he thinks all it takes to become a knight is some cheap armor?

Hot Pie considers the question, gnawing on his bottom lip. “How do you know?”

Two pails in hand, while walking away Gendry answers, “‘Cause I sold armor.”

The last of the buckets full, Arya takes her two buckets. Her shoes are worn down, her skin and clothes dirty. What she’d do for a bath any day now. Instead, she answers, “Sorry, Hot Pie. At least you know now though, right? Better late than never.”

“Yeah I guess.” Hot Pie sighs. Arya almost swears he was pouting.

Loudly, Lommy claps his friend on the back. “It doesn’t matter where we’re going anyway. Brothers on the Wall take no titles. That’s all it is. Just a stupid title. Armor is much cooler.”

Hot Pie smiles. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” 

Arya half turns, looking at the boys then back up the small hill where their camp is. She thinks they all could become good friends. Maybe when they get to Winterfell she can convince them to stay with her. 

Gendry meets her at the top, taking the buckets from her, replacing them with another set of empty ones. Seeing her smile so openly, Gendry makes a face.

“What?” he asks.

Arya clears her throat. “Nothing.”

She’ll definitely ask Lommy and Hot Pie. In the future maybe she’ll extend the invitation to Gendry too but she isn’t so sure.

 

* * *

 

Jon wakes with his mate held inside of him where he’s sore but sated. He looks up to see one of Ramsay’s boys staring at them. He can’t remember the man’s name. Doesn’t want to commit it to memory. Just knowing the man’s face alone is enough. He knows from their faces alone which ones are the ones he should avoid the most. The man growls a bit when Jon fixes him with a glare, leaning back against Theon as if he can disappear in his mate’s arms.

Ramsay sent the cruel man with the whip.

The man has touched Jon before. Ramsay permits his boys to have their way with Jon when he’s in the mood. This one in particular is actually one of Jon’s more preferred. He never talks to Jon unless it’s warranted and never lingers after he orgasms. He’s lashed Jon’s ankles with his whip before, just to see him dance until he begged to make it stop. Jon never begged. It angered Ramsay so he sent two other of his boys to rectify the situation instead. 

Yellow Dick and Skinner don’t hesitate to spread their Beta stench on Jon. They pinned him to the ground as they raped him, slapped him silly to get him to submit. But the man with the whip is easier to handle. So long as Jon does what he says. The man isn’t much for talking as long as Ramsay is around. Despite preferences, it’s no secret Jon hates them all.

“Enjoy your last night together?” the man asks.

Jon tries not to wonder how long he’d been standing there.

“You may just get your wish, bastard. Lord Ramsay is getting tired of you.” Damon grins, stroking his whip from the hilt to the very end. It glistens with grease. “I’m hoping he’ll let me have you. Bones has his eyes on you but Lord Roose favors his son less than he knows.” He slowly approaches the bed, pressing the handle of the whip firm into the center of Jon’s chest. “My dear mother once told me that I’d never be worthy of an Omega’s affection but look where I am? I have an Omega right in front of me with the sweetest cunt for the taking. You’ll beg me to wreck that cunt of yours and if I’m feeling gracious enough, I’ll do just that.”

The steady beating of Theon’s heart against Jon’s back makes the Omega still. He doesn’t want to do something to anger the Beta. He can handle being hurt but he doesn’t want to be the reason for Theon hurting. They’ve been given a generous two days for Jon’s recovery and he doesn’t want it to end early because he snapped at Damon while in a vulnerable position.

Damon takes Jon’s silence as an affirmative. “You do, don’t you? Your Alpha not enough for you? Ben’s girls have larger knots than this squid. Bet I could stick my whole fist up there and you’d take it, just like a good whore. Your kind get so wet at the thought of being fucked so full.”

In his sleep Theon groans, pressing his lips against Jon’s mating mark. He’s still sleeping, physically exhausted. Sometimes Ramsay likes to give Theon late visits at night. If their situation was different, he’d tell Jon immediately. Jon doesn’t know and Theon thinks it's for the best.

Slowly, Damon traces a popped claw around Jon’s nipple. He watches as the bud hardens, even as Jon tries to will his body to not respond. After going in and out of contact with his mate, his body has learned to adapt to the touches of others. His instincts scream for an Alpha to take him, fill him up until he’s with child. Theon so far has been unable to do so but Ramsay brought so many Alphas with him. So many brutes with thick cocks and loads of come that could give Jon’s body just what it needs.

Belatedly, Jon recoils from the touch. He jostles Theon inside him, eliciting a small whimper. He flushes red in embarrassment. He’s the exact picture of an Omega. Getting wet and needy at the thought of a knot locking inside of him. His mind is still hazy enough from the previous withdrawals that curses how weak he’s become.

If Robb ever saw him like this, he’d never be able to lift his head again. All his pride would be lost.

Letting his whip unfold until it reaches the floor, Damon steps back. In one fluid motion he flicks the whip so it hits the floor. It makes a loud crack. He then seats himself in the chair next to the bed meant for the maester. Jon merely watches, chest close to heaving.

“Show me your cunt, boy. Spread yourself for me.” He commands, sitting in the chair with his legs spread. One hand grips his whip firmly while the other works his cock out of his breeches. “Pleasure yourself but don’t come. You’ll regret it if you do.”

Jon misses the warmth of Theon’s arms as soon as he slips free of his Alpha’s safe hold. When he spread his legs, he looks up at the ceiling. He doesn’t want to look at Damon nor does he want to look at Theon now. The memory of the whip wrapping around his ankle is too prominent in Jon’s mind.

Drops of Theon’s come slips between his cheeks. Usually confident, he slips his middle finger inside himself with hesitation. It feels good, mostly. Inside, he’s sticky and warm. Jon starts to take his finger out to slip two more in but Damon clears his throat.

“Hold yourself open.” 

Fingers twitching, Jon does just that. Face totally red, he loops his arms on the tops of his legs so his knees press against his chest. Naturally, his hole clenches around nothing. He’s stretched out. 

“Fuck,” the man mutters. “It’s a greedy little mouth, your cunt.” He strokes his cock faster, fingers tightening around the hilt of the whip. “Now fuck yourself on your hand. I want to see it.”

The view of his face obscured by his legs in the way, Jon allows him a small moment to look to his mate. They’d play like this before. He’d rush to the bedroom and play with himself before Theon could join in. He’d present on his hands and knees just like a good Omega should. Then Theon would mount him. Sometimes Jon would tie Theon to the bed and climb on top of his mate. He’d prepare himself slow and out of Theon’s reach. They always made a playful game of it.

Jon takes a sharp gasp of air. 

Carefully, he listens to Theon’s heart rate. Damon repeats his command, voice harsh. Jon’s fingers start to move at their own accord. Jon doesn’t look at Theon again. He doesn’t want to let it show that Theon is awake. Something tells Jon that Damon already knows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New tags have been added. The next update will take longer now that uni is back in. This chapter has been proofread but please let me know if there are any glaring mistakes.
> 
> Sansa/Joffrey + Arya/Gendry tags will be added once they're more prominent.
> 
> *Conversation between Lommy, Gendry, Arya, and Hot Pie is canon from both the book and show.


End file.
